The Great Revenge
by kezya
Summary: The NPCs have had enough and they're planning their revenge! Starring: Khalid, Jaheira, Valygar, Edwin, Anomen, Imoen, Yoshimo, Aerie, Irenicus, Minsc and Boo!, Viconia, Dynaheir and others.
1. Prologue: In the Limbo

A/N: I don't own 'Baldur's Gate', neither do I claim to. This story was written for my own entertainment; I hope you'll find it entertaining, too. Oh, and one more thing: I could use a beta. English is not my first language and try as I may, mistakes still slip through. Email me if you're willing to try, or just say so in your review and I'll contact you.

**The Great Revenge**

**Prologue: In the Limbo**

The Limbo is a place outside the borders of time and existence. It is eternally quiet and universally peaceful, because in the Limbo all worldly troubles loose their importance. There is no light and darkness there, no whisper and no shout.

That is, when Jaheira isn't there.

"This cannot continue!" the half-elf shouted, shaking her mane of long hair. It was still golden-brown and wavy, although – she knew it with painful clarity – it would soon turn into blond dreadlocks. "We must end this nightmare at last!"

Four heads silently nodded their support. Anomen scratched his chin nervously. "Acting out the murder of your only sister time and time again is traumatic enough, though after the thirtieth time the novelty wears off a bit. But being literally raped by a thrill-seeking nymphomaniac, well, that leaves you with a dilemma, whether to retch or rather scream your lungs out."

"And you can do neither, that's the worst part," Khalid added sympathetically. "As for me, I'm fed up of dying a long, gruesome and above all – painful death."

"And I'm fed up of looking at it," Imoen shuddered. "I only keep my sanity by visualizing HER in your place."

"Here I was, thinking you were friends," Dynaheir remarked casually. "By the way, could we please imagine a table and some chairs? That nothingness makes me jumpy."

Everyone concentrated and gradually five chairs and a table emerged from the void. The furniture was of unpleasantly vague shape and color, and it seemed to melt whenever one tried to take a better look of it. However, it was still functional. The five conspirators took their seats.

"Don't you think we should bring Minsc here?" Imoen was clearly uneasy.

"Oh, he's about the only one who doesn't mind the situation at all," Dynaheir calmed her. "I don't think he has realized we're running in circles."

"Mm. And the others?" Anomen asked, resting his elbows on the table and barely managing to stop them from sinking into it. He flashed the rest an apologetic smile.

"They either don't care," Khalid grimaced, "or are out of our reach. Or too stupid to help."

"Let's call Aerie—" Imoen began.

"What, that whiny little wimp? Over my dead body!" Jaheira growled. "I'll tell you who could be useful. Jon Irenicus."

"What?"

"What!?"

"You called?"

The ever-present emptiness spat out a familiar willowy silhouette. The mage crossed his arms and dispassionately – he couldn't well help it – surveyed the group. Imoen went pallid.

"I don't want him here!" she squealed. "After what he has done to me... more than once!"

"My dear child," Irenicus replied smoothly, "you cannot possibly blame me for that. The daughter of Bhaal pulls the strings, as is the case with all of us."

"Yes, but you enjoy it far too much."

"What would you want?" he shrugged. "I AM a homicidal psychopath, after all."

"My question is short and straightforward," Anomen interrupted, "and I expect the answer to be of a similar type. Will you help us?"

"Yes," Irenicus visibly became more serious, even though the expression on his... face never changed. "There is evil and then there is evil, and in comparison with the Bhaalspawn, I'm not even naughty."

"In that case, please, imagine yourself a chair."

The chair was there before Anomen finished the sentence. It was decorated in a classic theme of skulls and spikes. Irenicus had an eye for details.

"What was the subject of your discussion before I entered the stage, if I may ask?"

"We were listing our grievances towards the Bhaalspawn," Khalid reminded. "Oh yes, here's an interesting thought. For reasons yet unknown to me, I have been made a comic relief. My purpose is mainly to provide a contrast for her courage and willpower."

"Did it not occur to you, my half-elven friend, that it might have something to do with the fact that you stutter? And your wife, um, fits the definition of 'dominant' rather well?"

"I d-do not stutter!"

Silence. Pointed looks.

"Well... maybe a little. When I'm really vexed. Besides, it's not nice to laugh at someone because of a little speech impediment."

"And our sex life is nobody's business," Jaheira added.

"I feel your pain," Anomen said sincerely. "'Oh, lady fair', 'my flower', 'my love'... I mean, honestly, my typical pickup line is 'hey, baby, you're hot, how about a little roll in the hay?' My teeth hurt when I say that corny nonsense."

"I'll die in two weeks," Dynaheir spoke all of a sudden. "If I am lucky."

They were silent for a few minutes.

"Sometimes we are almost ourselves, all but regaining our free will," Irenicus drawled thoughtfully. "And sometimes we are simply puppets, saying alien words put into our mouths by a greater power."

"Sometimes?" Jaheira snorted. "Only here, in the Limbo, I am my own person!"

"No, it's true," to general consternation, Imoen supported the mage. "I remember... When I am in Spellhold, there are times like that. Perhaps it's distance that matters? The further away from her, the weaker her influence?"

"It's not enough," Anomen sighed.

"Wait a second," Dynaheir raised a finger, "I think I have something. We need some person who could operate outside the borders drawn by her. Somebody who shouldn't be there at all. I can't get to Athkatla, I never appear there... but you, Khalid, do."

"M-my very dead body does," Khalid countered, but he was listening carefully.

"Silvanus!" Jaheira cried, understanding at last. "She won't be coming too close! There can be anyone on that table: Khalid, alive, someone else, dead, anyone!"

"A good plan," her husband smiled. "I like it – don't you, wizard?"

Irenicus shook his head. "Not at all. A terrible blow to my experiments. Still, I can think of no other way. We will have to try this one."

"Supposing it works and I'm there..."

"Kill her," Anomen stated matter-of-factly.

"Preferably before he," Imoen pointed at Irenicus, "takes my soul away."

"I agree," the mage nodded. "It's one of those no-stopping moments, and once there, we'll have to proceed with this sorry farce to the bitter end. I too don't enjoy dying."

"Then extermination it is. Ladies and gentlemen, I propose to imagine ourselves some wine."

They raised their glasses, drinking for the upcoming victory. Dynaheir smiled.

"I can feel our revenge coming. And you know what? It tastes like honey!"


	2. Chapter One: An Unpleasant Surprise

A/N: Heartfelt thanks to everyone who reviewed, namely to Magicman, MordorianNazgul, Eli-Everemore and Aqua-chan. Here goes chapter one!

**Chapter One: An Unpleasant Surprise**

"I push the button," Alienor Darkhunter said in a clear, ringing voice. Behind her Jaheira made a sour grimace.

'Maybe I could tolerate her, MAYBE,' she thought with utmost disgust, 'if only she weren't so painfully noble.'

The genie laughed diabolically, although a keen observer would have noticed an expression of mute suffering in his eyes. Something splashed weirdly in one of the murky, crystal-rimmed pools, but Jaheira paid no heed to it, just like she didn't listen to the genie's customary speech. She knew well enough that the sole possible danger here was that ogre-mage that –

Oh, yeah. Here he is.

Given the choice, Jaheira would have cheerfully stepped aside and let the ogre and Alienor set the matter together – unfortunately, she had no choice. Her hand involuntarily reached for the scimitar, at the same time that Minsc pulled out his sword and Imoen notched an arrow. Aware that any resistance was futile, the druid sighed, submitting to the force in control of her body.

'I hate her,' she was thinking bitterly, while making the first slash at the monster, 'because we are all her playthings, pawns to move on the board as she pleases. But I hate her even more, because I am a total bitch to her goody-goody two shoes. And she is damn well aware of that.'

*****

Water trickled slowly from the ceiling. Drip... drip... drip... A droplet fell on Imoen's palm. The girl flinched away, but didn't stand up. She supported her head against the wall and through half-closed eyelids surveyed her three companions, all sleeping peacefully.

Correction: her two companions and Alienor.

With unaccustomed anger Imoen looked away. She volunteered to take the first watch, to postpone the moment when she would be forced to wake up crying. She knew there was no escape from it; she had tried once. As a result, she had been so tired she barely could walk and what was to come had come all the same.

'How did Khalid put it? _In comparison with me, she can better demonstrate her courage and willpower._ Well said, very well said.'

Some things were unavoidable, and yet – here Imoen grinned happily – this time they altered the course a bit. Khalid wasn't killed, not in her presence, anyway. This let her hope that breaking the cursed circle was yet possible.

What was that? A rustle? The unexpected sound raised the little hairs on the girl's neck. She stared into the darkness of the corridor, visible in the narrow crack of the door, straining to hear anything else. However, if the noise recurred, it was drained out by Minsc's snores. Besides, they were unlikely to meet any dangers worse that a band of stray goblins. And those could be disposed of all too easily. What was more, no one ever died, not permanently, at least. Oh no, here even death guaranteed no peace – 

Wait a minute. How come the door was open? She had closed it herself!

She rose fluently and walked to the exit, her heart pounding. She told herself that nothing would happen that she didn't know about and peeked out. Tense as she was, she didn't see the dark silhouette emerging from the shadows, until it was already too late.

An arm enclosed her waist in a gentle but firm embrace, pinning her hands to her sides, and a large, calloused palm clamped her mouth, suppressing her cry. Imoen stiffened.

"Hush!" a voice she knew whispered in her ear. "It's me, Yoshimo! Speak quietly, alright?"

She nodded vigorously. Yoshimo let go of her. Imoen whirled around to face him. She didn't know Yoshimo all that well and she wasn't sure if he could be completely trusted. But he was, she admitted silently, a handsome man, with those slant eyes of his and that golden skin tone...

This train of thoughts must have become visible in her expression, for Yoshimo chuckled quietly. Imoen looked back, alarmed. If Minsc or Alienor woke up now, the situation would be terribly hard to explain.

"They're sleeping," Yoshimo calmed her. "I will be brief. Irenicus sent me. Everything is ready, just as planned."

"I take it you're with us?" Imoen asked to make sure.

"Wholeheartedly. Because of her, I became a traitor, I lost my honor. The only explanation for my behavior is that I didn't have control over my own actions."

"The geas...?"

Yoshimo pursed his lips. "There is no geas."

"What?!" Imoen all but shouted it aloud.

"Be quiet! I said there was no geas. She," he indicated Alienor, "had me disgraced and killed for the sole reason that it suited her... game."

In his dark eyes Imoen saw hatred akin to that which she felt. She blinked furiously. Noticing her distress, Yoshimo calmed down.

"Remember, Imoen," he added, "it doesn't matter whether we are good or evil; here we are all innocent. The guilt is upon her."

Impulsive as always, she reached out to him. "I won't forget! Farewell, Yoshimo."

"Say rather – goodbye," he smiled. "We shall meet again soon."

He squeezed her hand and slipped outside, into the gloom. She closed the door behind him and return to her spot under the wall. Another lone hour of keeping watch...

Drip... drip...

*****

The dissection table didn't make a very comfortable resting place. Khalid gritted his teeth and attempted to position his head in such a way that his nose wouldn't be crashed flat against the table top. He was lying on his stomach, as it meant a smaller probability of giving himself away with an ill-timed wink or a deeper breath. An artful disguise gave him a sufficiently dead look; it could mislead anyone from afar. And it was Jaheira's job to make sure the wrong people didn't look closer.

Together with Irenicus they decided it was the best option. The matter had to be sealed as soon as possible and once and for all. With any luck, Alienor would be so shocked at Khalid's 'return from the dead' that it would render her helpless and unable to fight. Khalid smiled nastily. He talked to Irenicus a great deal lately and found him quite a reasonable guy – and a homicidal psychopath, naturally. On the other hand, anyone plotting the demise of Alienor had to be unusually bright.

Now, the last moments to settle in an agreeable position. He moved his left hand, hoping in vain that it would stop growing numb.

Footsteps... and the sound of a slowly opening door. Now hush, not a word!

Of course his ear immediately started itching.

*****

_'Lightning Mephit – Damage Taken (16)_

Lightning Mephit – Death'

Kez leaned back in her chair and sighed contentedly. The math test was a real nightmare... nothing like a good fight to soothe the nerves. Oh, Jaheira is going to find Khalid's body now! She loved that part – it was so dramatic.

The screen flickered and slowly went black.

Kez let out a string of very un-lady-like expletives. She hadn't even saved the game! She was just reaching out to restart the computer, when the view reappeared with a ping.

Kez pushed up her glasses and studied the screen distrustfully. Everything looked alright, so she pressed the Quicksave key and went back to the game.

*****

The last remaining unfortunate Mephit fell down, dead. Jaheira hurriedly stepped over the still-twitching corpse and virtually ran in the direction of a remote corner, where, on a table, a body could be seen. She only hoped that the body wasn't lifeless, as was usually the case.

Khalid felt Jaheira touching his hand lightly. He responded with a soft squeeze, signaling that all was well. Jaheira squeezed back and, as planned, started the traditional lamentation rant. She didn't have to struggle for words; they were there, in her mind, waiting impatiently for a chance to assault her tongue. The relief, however, caused her to put an unusual amount of feeling into them.

Khalid gave her thirty seconds to totally win Alienor's attention and then he cautiously opened an eye. Good! The Bhaalspawn was standing with her back to him, trying to explain something to Jaheira, who was sobbing, yelling and flailing her hands like a natural-born actress. Yoshimo, motionless on a spot as close to her, as could be deemed safe, captured his gaze and nodded, very slowly.

Minsc had just shoved his animal friend in Jaheira's face, to which the druid reacted by screaming 'Imbecile!' Khalid didn't wait any longer – that was the signal. He rolled from the table and with a trained hand reached for the sword concealed behind it.

But, shock horror, his fingers met no resistance, as if he were grasping at thin air.

Jaheira paused for a second. Yoshimo gasped. Aware of the icy fingers suddenly gripping his intestines, Khalid turned around.

Behind him, on the table that he had occupied until just recently, was something that most likely used to be a human body – maybe even HIS OWN – and that now resembled rather a bloody flitch of meat.

"Uh-oh," he stuttered.


	3. Chapter Two: The Limbo Again

A/N: I'll stress that: BETA NEEDED. NOW. Or even sooner. I'm not a native speaker and I feel I make an awful lot of mistakes when writing. Spell-check is useful, but still...

On to other matters. I'd like to recommend you a very good story, _Those Who Harp_ by Slide. It's a great read for those who like Khalid/Jaheira/Gorion/Harpers in general, or simply well-written adventure stories.

Answers to reviews at the end of the chapter!

**Chapter Two: The Limbo Again**

"Can someone tell me what had actually happened?"

Anomen's query went unanswered. The Avengers were rather a sorry bunch just now. Obviously, Khalid was the most depressed. As it turned out, he was no more corporal here than in the dungeons. He couldn't sit on a chair without sinking into it – this time there was no fault on the piece of furniture's part – but with a dose of concentration, he was able to hover just above it. So hover he did, looking morosely at his folded hands. He hadn't spoken a word since the beginning of the meeting.

They had found themselves back in the Limbo just after the unsuccessful assassination attempt, which meant that Alienor was temporarily bored with playing. For how long, they couldn't hope to predict. There was no time measurement in the Limbo, but they knew that the length of their periods of relative freedom could vary. Another matter was still more significant – Alienor had never noticed Khalid's presence! At least, his presence in another form than that of a mangled corpse. As for Khalid, should he want to pass through walls, he would have been well able to. It didn't help his mood any.

"She is doing it," Irenicus spoke unexpectedly. "She is adjusting the world to suit her play. She believes that Khalid shouldn't be in it, so he isn't – for her, at any rate. Still, at the same time, he IS: he didn't die, ergo, he is alive, ergo, we all can see him. Alas, as long as he doesn't exist for Alienor, he doesn't exist for the world on the whole. I never thought she was so powerful," he shook his head with authentic weariness.

"W-well, alr-right, then why H-HERE I'm s-still like th-that?" Khalid muttered, not looking up. None of the others missed his suddenly increased stammer or failed to draw a conclusion about his morale.

"Because," Yoshimo cut in, "you're still outside, in a way. Is that right?"

"Precisely," the mage confirmed. His permanently frozen features attempted to twist in a gloomy expression and failed rather spectacularly. "You are, let us say, doubled. As for now, I perceive no way of turning the scales either way."

Jaheira pounded her fist on the table. She could focus better than Anomen, so she managed to draw quite an impressing thump. Everybody jumped in their seats.

It was even more of a shock to see tears spilling on the tough druid's face.

"What are you staring at?" she grunted, drying her cheeks with a sleeve. "Something got into my eye."

Imoen, seated between her and Yoshimo, silently touched her shoulder.

"Alright," Jaheira admitted reluctantly. "I'm upset. Mostly about what happened to Khalid."

"Th-thank you, Jaheira. I appreciate it."

"I doubt you're in any danger," Dynaheir remarked sensibly. "Eventually we'll return to the point when we are both alive. It should set things right. We only have to be patient."

"That's ridiculous!" Anomen lost his temper. "Are we to resign ourselves to our fate? We have finally made a change, and you're advising us to follow her like mindless cattle? We must do something!"

"I d-don't know if you h-have noticed, b-but I can't exactly D-DO much in that s-state," Khalid replied harshly. Jaheira winced. Khalid rarely resorted to sarcasm and when he did... it had to be serious.

"We'll think of something," Anomen answered, somewhat less certainly.

"Tsk, that has never been your strong point," Yoshimo pointed out silkily.

Anomen reddened and moved as if to rise.

"Stop it, both of you!" Imoen cried irritably. Taken aback by her resolution, they obeyed. "I think Anomen is right."

"Would you care to elaborate, child?" even now Irenicus couldn't help patronizing her. Imoen swore to get even with him one day. First things first, however.

"We can't find a solution, but it doesn't mean there isn't one. Don't you know what celebrities we have here, in the Limbo? Elminster, Tethtoril, Drizzt..."

"...a couple of demigods, one or two ex- or aspiring deities and, if I'm not mistaken, even an actual god!" Anomen became enthusiastic. "Hah! Alienor will be sorry for ever having messed with us!"

"I wouldn't ask the l-lot of them for help," Khalid warned, a little less sullenly. "Some c-can be pretty, ah, unpredictable."

"True," Jaheira nodded. "But still –"

"—it's a great idea, Imoen," Yoshimo finished in a warm voice.

Imoen smiled. "I know."

"Who are we g-going to start with?"

"Oh, I suppose Elminster will be the best," Jaheira said with deliberation. "It's always good to have a powerful spellcaster at your side. Besides, he's allegedly the wisest man in the whole Faerun. No objections, I trust?"

"Aah," Irenicus shivered. "I loathe him. I'd like to counter that decision, but I can see no alternative."

"Pardon me," Dynaheir spoke like someone who had just mused heavily over a problem. "It's not that I'm criticizing, but just how are we going to find him?"

*****

_Kez glanced at the computer with longing. "I should be studying History. I really should."_

The neatly arranged CDs whispered of grand adventures, enticingly, temptingly.

She sighed. It was a lost cause.

"No big deal. I'll have plenty of time to study in the evening. It'll hurt nobody if I play 'Baldur's Gate' for half an hour now."

*****

There were no dazzling audiovisual effects; simply one second seven people were sitting round the table, the next, there was only one woman there.

"Well," Dynaheir stated in a dubious tone of voice, "looks like I'll have to be the one to find the answer to my question."

*****

Magic doesn't work in the Limbo, or else wizards imprisoned there would have torn it to pieces long ago. It doesn't mean, however, that its users aren't any different from the rest.

In the Limbo everybody leaves a trail, something like a glowing thread, pulsating with energy, visible for those who know how to look. The threads of the mages pulsate harder.

Dynaheir was aware of this. That was why she was running through the void now, her eyes half-closed, her hands outstretched, catching a random red track. If she was lucky, it would lead her to someone who knew where Elminster was. If she was even luckier, it would be Elminster himself. And if not – there were many threads, and she was patient.

Suddenly she halted. Her heart did a mad leap. There was a certain someone standing in her way.

A man. Tall. Dressed in red robes. But no, he was no Elminster.

"Looking for me, witch? (Yes, I did indeed feel peculiar vibrations)," Edwin sneered.

"Listen, Thayvian, I have no time for this," she cried, frustration creeping into her voice. "I'm trying to find Elminster; now, I do not assume you'll help me, but at least show your willingness to cooperate by stepping aside! We can settle our differences later."

"Later, when you'll have your brainless bodyguard at your side, not counting the other monkeys! (Does she take me for a fool?)

Edwin clearly would not cooperate. Dynaheir's mind raced through all the options. Her enemy was a large, powerful man – a trait not exactly common with wizards – able to wring her neck like a chicken's... yet...

Edwin's eyes widened. The witch was gone! After a moment he understood and tried to turn around, but he wasn't fast enough. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, he staggered and slowly fell down, hit expertly with a hastily imagined chair leg. The Limbo has its own rules. Slowly but surely you learn to play by them – and win.

Dynaheir paused to look at his unconscious form. She was tired – wishing herself in another location, albeit not far from the previous one, had taken its toll on her – but happy at the same time.

"Rashemen wins, score one nil," she said cheerfully.

**Big thanks to the reviewers!**

Magicman: *hurriedly runs to try and wrestle the staff from Folken's grasp, but, not being much of an athlete, fails pitifully* Ouch! Ow! No, don't hurt Yoshimo, please! He'll behave, I promise! As for your earlier request: Aerie'll be here, and soon. Mazzy... I dunno, perhaps a cameo...

MordorianNazgul: Thanks! I'm not planning to stop writing anytime soon!

Eli-Everemore: ??? It's SoA, not ToB insofar. But I hope you're enjoying it all the same...

Aqua-chan: Inspiration hit me while I was playing for the sixth or seventh time, too. So they must be pretty tired of me as well.

Slide: No need telling me that :) Khalid is my very favorite character and I took it personally when they killed him off in BGII.

Should anyone have any requests as to who would you like to see here, don't hesitate to tell me. And I remind you that I NEED A BETA.


	4. Chapter Three: Whisked Away

A/N: This chapter was kindly beta-edited by Slide. A big thank-you for your effort and encouraging comments!

Answers to reviews:

MordorianNazgul: Yes, you can expect Valygar quite soon. In fact, I was planning to include him anyway.

Magicman: The next chapter will be dedicated mostly to Aerie. It's already written, though not yet translated. I hope you'll like it :) And, to answer your review for _And so it was..._ (thanks for checking it out!), I don't know. The romance sorta kinda always happened... Incidentally, you can't review TOO often ;)

RiikiTikiTavi: Slide volunteered to be my beta-reader, so I didn't check out the URL. But thank you anyway!

The Blue Sorceress, Winkybunnion1, Wingstar: Thanks, thanks and thanks! Reviews keep me going!

**Chapter Three: Whisked Away**

They were about to leave the dreary dungeons at last. Alienor shielded her eyes and bravely marched to face the daylight.

"I'd love to kick her," Khalid muttered, quietly, so that only his wife heard him. "I r-really would, if it didn't mean l-losing my balance and falling down. P-possibly through her. And I'm n-not even sure if I would land on the ground, or under it. Now, that would be most embarrassing."

Jaheira was unable to hold a chuckle. She quickly covered it up with a sob, when Alienor turned and raised her eyebrows. Phew... must have worked; the Bhaalspawn made no comments, at any rate.

Minsc on his part was jolly as ever – and boisterous as ever. "Minsc and Boo see the sun!" he exclaimed. "Now the evil mage will pay for his deeds!"

Imoen sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. She sure could use similar optimism... She knew what was coming to her. The knowledge, however, didn't mean that she could avoid it.

A step. Another. And another. Warmth over her face, sunlight penetrating through her eyelids, coloring them red on the inside. She wanted to stop so very much, and yet she could not. She was already hearing the noises outside: the yells, the cracks, the hisses of spells being fired. 'It won't be long now...'

Yoshimo – couldn't be anyone else – gently touched her hand. It helped her in a way, conveying an unspoken message, 'I know. Be brave.' She opened her eyes to gaze at him, two steps away from the hated exit.

"I'm frightened," she whispered desperately. "It will hurt. Again."

"Be strong," Yoshimo answered, almost as she had imagined. "We won't leave you to your fate, that I swear you upon my honor."

Imoen nodded, her eyes fixed on him. Then she took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

Irenicus was standing tall and straight among dead bodies. Sun shone on his mask-like face, bringing out its inhuman quiescence. He was like a nightmare born in a demented mind. But it was not him who had first spun the horror.

Everybody was looking at her. Irenicus talked to Alienor, yet he kept his stare locked on Imoen. For a split second the girl saw in his eyes helplessness and – was it really apology...? Then she blinked and the feeling was dispelled. Alienor was looking, too. Her gaze shone with expectation.

Imoen's mouth parted, against the brain's better judgment.

_No, oh no, I don't want to do this, someone stop me, help!_

"You won't torment us any longer!" she croaked.

_They'll take me away, to that far, dark place..._

She struggled against her own traitorous body, trying to suppress magical phrases forming in her throat. She failed miserably. _Gestures. Words. Flash._ Magic missiles shot at Irenicus, only to bounce harmlessly off the wards surrounding him.

For how long can a human being endure tortures and still keep their senses, knowing that it will happen again, sooner or later, for the second, third, tenth time? Imoen was dangerously close to the border of sanity and that what lay beyond.

Around Irenicus four portals winked into existence. The wizards that stepped through them died quickly and spectacularly, but others immediately appeared. Jaheira was reaching for her scimitar at a snail's pace, drawn lips and taut muscles the only indication of the effort she was putting in that simple movement.

"You will take the girl as well!" Irenicus boomed.

"What? I didn't do anything!" Imoen shrieked frantically. "Help! Someone help me!"

Alienor kept looking.

*****

Khalid deliberately let the others outpace him. He felt miserable and wished for a moment alone with his thoughts. He had known, of course, that Imoen was going to be captured by the Cowled Wizards. He simply never had SEEN it. The memory of her wide open, wild eyes sent a shiver down his spine. For that alone, he decided, for the indifference with which Alienor had watched her friend being dragged away, the Bhaalspawn deserved to be put to death.

He barely noticed that he was descending the wreckage ankle-deep in debris. Even if he did, there was nothing that he could do: that technique, unusual as it was, was a lot easier than attempting to skip on loose stones, when a minuscule slip of concentration would mean sinking up to his neck in the ruin.

Once safely down, he sighed. It certainly was Athkatla, just as he remembered it. He had been here once, with Jaheira, a long time ago, before Alienor happened to them. At first sight, nothing had changed since then. It must have been that year when they had met Gorion for the first time... The reminiscence of his one-time mentor led Khalid to pose an important question – 'I wonder, what does he think about this whole mess?' He had no time to ponder on it, however, for he suddenly realized that the group had vanished from his sight, sucked in the multicolored crowd on the Promenade. He looked about, but caught no glimpse of any of them.

'Tough luck, I'll have to ask around,' he resolved. He turned to a woman with yellow hair and a full, pleasant face.

"P-pardon me, madam, I'm trying to find my friends. You must have seen them ––"

The woman offered nothing in the way of reaction. Her vacant blue stare was set on something in the distance, though on what exactly, was known only to her. All of a sudden, she giggled, shook her head like a colt, made a few steps and came to a halt on the edge of the debris.

"A lunatic," Khalid whispered under his breath. He walked to another, older woman and to his horror observed in her eyes the same hollowness. 'How can it be! Is this whole city an insane asylum?' Suddenly he saw another explanation, the mere possibility of which made his blood run cold. He glanced about nervously.

A woman dressed like a courtesan, a soldier, a red-haired man, a child – all wearing the same expression, full of thoughtless bliss. Like puppets, controlled by their master's hand. Khalid became very conscious of the fact that, although the throng was noisy, no one was talking; they were all SPEAKING.

_You don't exist for the world..._ Could all those men and women be but a part of Alienor's world, just like buildings, rocks or furniture?

"H-hello! Can you h-hear me, miss? Sir? You th-there! Look at m-me! Abyss, l-look at m-me! C-can anyone h-hear me?"

Waukeen's Promenade was loud with a thousand of monologues. So why did Khalid feel like his words were greeted with a deadly silence...?


	5. Chapter Four: The Berserker and the Witc...

A/N: Magicman, here's Aerie for you!

**Chapter Four: The Berserker and the Witch**

Aerie, basically a winged elf, temporarily a giant ogre, sighed and attempted to smooth her hair. Halfway through the gesture she recalled that ogres lacked something in the tresses department and she let her hand fall with another sigh. It sounded comical in contrast with her hideous exterior, but Aerie couldn't bring herself to appreciate the humor of the situation.

They were late. It wasn't as if she missed them that much – Minsc was sweet, naturally, but Jaheira permanently looked down on her, which irked the diminutive Avariel to no end. As for Alienor... Aerie bit her lip. She was a kind, gentle girl, who didn't like to speak ill of anyone, so she thought only that she would prefer to be as far from Alienor as possible.

Dreams rarely do come true in this most cruel of worlds. At that exact moment Alienor strode into the banquet hall – previously a circus tent. She was reeking of uprightness, courage and self-satisfaction, as always. Aerie sent her the worst glare she could muster.

Jaheira and Yoshimo entered just after her and then – Aerie's breath caught – a red-haired man stepped in through the wall. A half-elf, to be precise. Minsc, hot on Yoshimo's heels, greeted him with a warm smile, showing no evident astonishment.

Aerie had no idea what to say. "Er..." she faltered. "Um..."

Jaheira, Yoshimo and the stranger simultaneously pressed their finger to their mouth, Jaheira rolling her eyes menacingly for good measure. Minsc, characteristically oblivious to the world outside his own mind, smiled happily.

"Yes, well –" Aerie got a grip on herself and allowed the role she was playing to take control over her tongue. "Thank the gods! You must... you must help me!"

*****

In the circus tent, looking like a circus tent for a change, Alienor was talking to Uncle Quayle. True, Aerie reflected, it wasn't NICE to condemn him to her presence – but this was their sole chance to talk more or less without interruption. The five of them huddled together in a corner, looking around nervously.

"This is Khalid, my husband." Jaheira was her usual brisk self.

"A p-pleasure. Listen, I discovered something t-terrible –"

"What's happening?" Aerie asked impatiently. "And don't call me child, or... or I'll scream!"

Jaheira ignored her. "Something terrible? Where? What?"

"Why does pretty Aerie want to scream?" Minsc inquired with good-natured curiosity. "Here, Boo will help you relax!"

"N-not now. It's s-something for everyone t-to hear."

Aerie impatiently pushed the hamster away. Even the kindest, most gentle of souls are entitled to a bad day once in a while. She raised her voice. "Either you'll tell me," she threatened, "or..."

"Pardon me, friends," Yoshimo spoke neutrally, "but shouldn't we introduce Aerie to our little scheme now?"

"She'll learn everything in the Limbo," Jaheira answered dismissively.

Khalid sent Aerie a comforting smile. "We want-ted to kill Alienor," he explained. "But s-something didn't g-go quite as planned."

Aerie's mind whirled. Out of the thousand questions she chose the one that was currently the closest to her lips. "Why... why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, we're telling you now," Jaheira scolded. "You'll hear about the details in the Limbo, child. We were hoping to seal the matter without involving too many people."

Aerie was in shock; firstly, because of the very notion of assassination, secondly because she apparently hadn't been deemed worthy to take part in it. That, however, was nothing in comparison to Minsc. The giant berserker was opening and closing his mouth, emitting no sounds save for random grunts. His picture might have been placed in a dictionary, right next to the definition of 'dumbfounded'.

"Minsc..." Aerie began.

"Why do we want to kill our friend Alienor?" he asked dismally. "Minsc doesn't understand. Boo does, but he won't tell me. He says I need to find that out myself."

"Minsc, listen to me..."

"Very good," Yoshimo said quietly. "Explain it to him. If he listens to anyone, it'll be you."

"Blast!" Jaheira hissed. "Alienor's coming! Quickly, Yoshimo, we need to occupy her somehow!"

They both left, Aerie didn't know where. She felt a suggestion of an immaterial hand on her arm and heard a whispered 'g-good luck'. Then the sensation of touch was gone and she was alone with Minsc.

'I cannot _explain_ him!' she protested silently. 'I don't understand myself... or yet... I do.

'Walk the same way over and over again. Never to be anything more than she lets me. It's almost like I still was a circus slave.'

Suddenly she knew what to tell Minsc. She lifted her small hand to touch his sad face. "For as long as Alienor lives, we'll never have any new adventures. You won't be able to complete your dejemma, because she won't let you go back to Rashemen. She will forever keep us at her beck and call."

"But... Minsc and Alienor slay dragons..."

"Yes, Minsc. But they are always THE SAME dragons."

Minsc didn't respond. Aerie waited patiently. She knew that for this kind-hearted giant treason was something barely possible to imagine.

Eventually he spoke, although he did not sound entirely convinced. "Boo says I should listen to you, because you are wise."

Aerie flung herself at him, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Boo is wise too! And you are the best!" she squealed with joy. Minsc was surprised, but not displeased. He scooped Aerie up like a child and span around with her, so that her golden hair flew like a banner in a breeze. The girl laughed until her ribs hurt.

"Ha ha," she puffed when she found herself standing at last. "We have to..."

She broke off at the familiar tug at her intestines. "Watch out, we're going back to the Limbo! Give me your hand, I don't want us to be separated!"

The world started reeling, faster and faster. All colors gradually melted into gray and then, in an abrupt, soundless explosion, flashed like a myriad of rainbows. Blood was roaring in their ears, they struggled vainly to take a breath of air in their squeezed lungs – and all turned into silence and darkness.

They were on the other side.


	6. Chapter Five: The Council of Elminster

A/N: Took me a long time... Well, anyway, I hope you'll like it. For those who like fantasy books, I put a _Lord of the Rings_ and a _Discworld_ reference in this chapter. Can you people find them? (Well, the LotR one is fairly easy, I admit.) On a final note, Magicman, I don't want to see Folken threatening Jaheira now ;)

**Chapter Five: The Council of Elminster**

Having suddenly found herself in impenetrable darkness, alone but for a certain berserker and his hamster, Aerie almost panicked. She was hit with the realization that she didn't have a clue where the others were – or even who the others were. The all-encompassing void whispered into her ear sweet words about the hopelessness of all struggles, about the heavenly oblivion... How easily she could surrender and slumber, like so many did in the Limbo! Aerie gripped Minsc's hand tightly.

And then she heard another voice, clear and fraught with irritation. _Aerie, Minsc, will you please come here, we'll waiting only for you!_

Jaheira! Aerie had never thought that a scolding from the bossy druid would sound so wonderful. She could now distinctly see a green, pulsating trail. Closing her eyes, she reached out to touch it. Her ears rang.

"H-here they are," someone said.

Aerie opened her eyes and looked around. To be honest, she hadn't expected the conspirators to be so numerous. She certainly hadn't expected Jon Irenicus to be one of them. The mage sent her and Minsc an amused glance.

"Little elvish girl and her protector, as brave as he is stupid. What a worthy addition to our group."

Jaheira looked like she might be agreeing with him on that. Khalid scowled and started to speak, but Anomen Delryn beat him to it. "Be careful, wizard," he growled, "or perhaps we'll find them to be more worthy than you are!"

"Gentlemen, PLEASE," a dark-skinned woman dressed in purple robes raised her hands. "We need to..."

The rest of her words was drowned out by Minsc's joyous cry, "DYNAHEIR!"

'Oh. So I gather she must be his previous witch.'

"Minsc thought you were dead! He mourned for you, when – when ––" the joy on his face slowly evaporated, replaced by incredulity and rage. "Ooh, now I remember! And I understand! Aerie is right, Alienor is EVIL!"

"I'm glad... Minsc... could you now... let go... ribs cracking..."

"Hey," a tired, haggard Imoen smiled at Aerie. "Sit here, next to me." She was pointing at the chair between herself and Jaheira. Aerie hesitated, but the only other unoccupied seat was the one between Dynaheir and Irenicus, which would be even worse. She sat down, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her robe.

Jaheira moved. "I promised you an explanation, child," she said harshly. "As you already know, we wanted – we still want – to kill Alienor. We managed to smuggle Khalid to Athkatla, alive. Unfortunately Alienor and the world on the whole refuse to acknowledge it."

"Hence m-my wraith-like state," Khalid supplied.

"Oh. And does..."

"Be quiet, child! Can't you see Dynaheir is about to speak?"

Aerie sunk lower in her chair, blinking down traitorous tears. 'If only I could stand up to her...'

Dynaheir cleared her throat, not really to get their collective attention, but rather because she still had troubles breathing after having been caught in a bear hug by Minsc. "I've got good news. I managed to seek out Elminster and he promised to help us."

"Oh, joy," Irenicus muttered.

"I'm afraid he won't be able to stay with us for a long time, though. He's in an even worse shape than you, Khalid."

"My most sincere condolences."

"Silence, evil mage! Minsc's witch is talking! Um... can Minsc have two witches?"

"Of course you can," Dynaheir replied smoothly. "What was I...?"

"You were saying, if I remember correctly, that I am quite unwell at the moment."

It was an old man's voice, quiet and yet powerful, booming all around them and whispering in their hearts at the same time. When Aerie saw the speaker, she let out a gasp. Dynaheir had put the matter way too cautiously. Khalid was immaterial, true – but Elminster didn't look like a human being at all. He seemed to be a wisp of smoke, a reddish-hued splinter of nothingness.

"Yes, Aerie," he said gently. "That's what I've become. Even an ordinary talk tasks my strength heavily. Despite that, I'll try to help you as much as I can."

"How can we defeat the Bhaalspawn?" Anomen burst out.

"Alienor's power is greater than you think. She controls not only our fates ––" 

"Yes," Khalid interrupted. "I've s-seen it. I've s-seen human puppets, human pawns. D-deprived even of a conscious m-mind and a chance to c-curse her name. D-do you know, what Athk-katla is r-right n-now? Nothing b-but a giant chessboard."

Imoen covered her mouth. Jaheira drew a loud, hissing breath. Anomen all but fell from his chair. "It's impossible!" he shouted. "It hasn't been like that, ever! True, there were us and the likes, but the people... the people..."

"Were people," Aerie finished quietly.

They exchanged horror-struck looks. The situation was more and more like a bad dream. The vision of mute, mindless beings swarming in the whole Faerun froze even the bravest hearts.

"I did not know," Elminster said hollowly, "although I should have foreseen it."

"Why?" Yoshimo frowned.

"Alienor is not so mighty as to rule over the real Toril. The Athkatla you know is not the real Athkatla – at least not thoroughly. It is an artificial world, created by her and for her."

"And you," Jaheira asked, scrutinizing him intently, "are you the real Elminster?"

It almost seemed like the sage smiled. "The answer to that question," he replied, "lies somewhere between 'no' and 'yes'."

"Could you explain?" Yoshimo, again.

"Just like Athkatla both is and is not the real Athkatla, I both am and am not the real Elminster. I exist doubly even more than Khalid does." He paused, seeing blank stares all around. "It's not that easy to explain."

"Let's get to the point then," Anomen demanded. "Advise us in plain simple words what we can do."

Elminster didn't answer right away and when he did speak, there was an undertone of weariness in his voice. He was, if possible, less material than when they saw him first. "You have done something already: Khalid is in Athkatla, alive, though he was destined to die. You've changed the story."

"A l-lot of good it did us."

"It may seem so now. But actually you've done much. Each change means a slight loss of Alienor's control over the situation. I think that is why she suddenly robbed the citizens of Athkatla of their free will – as if she was clenching her fist, trying to get a better grip on a thing that was slipping through her fingers. The more differences you make, the stronger will her grip be, until she overdoes and shatters the cage she constructed herself. Then we will be free."

"Or we will die among the splinters of the cage," Yoshimo shook his head.

"I'd like to be able to rule out such a risk," Elminster answered in a voice than was now a mere whisper. "Alas, my wisdom fails me. I must leave you; I am very tired. Look for allies, enlist anyone you can. Goodbye and good luck!"

The mage's transparent form started to fade away. Before he vanished, they heard his amused voice yet again, "Oh, yes – do tell Irenicus he can stop hiding now."

Irenicus gnashed his teeth, but reappeared on his chair. One or two people chuckled. He sent them a murderous glare. "This table is too small for two powerful wizards."

"What a pity, Irenicus, are you planning to leave?" a mocking drawl sounded. Minsc recognized the speaker at once.

"The enemy of sweet Dynaheir!" he roared, springing up. "I'll..."

"Down, simian," Edwin cut in, having emerged from the darkness. "You are sitting at the table with her murderer; how do you think, which one of us you should be threatening? Consult your rodent if that is too complicated a query for you. (Come to think of it, I do believe that any rodent has more intellectual potential than this simian AND his witch.)"

Dynaheir's face was stony, her eyes narrowed to slits. "Did we invite you, Thayvian?"

"No, I followed your tracks, witch," Edwin replied casually, while imagining himself a chair. "You almost gave me a serious brain damage. (On the other hand, those monkeys may not regard it as a life-threatening injury. If they have brains, that is, which I doubt.)"

"You're mighty cheerful today, aren't you?" Imoen remarked lightly.

"Ha, ha. Your sarcasm is killing me."

"Sarcasm? I was quite serious!"

Edwin found no answer to that, so he grunted and smoothed the cowl of his bright red robe. Despite his defiant words, he took care to sit as far from Minsc as he could.

"B-back to the point, please," Khalid said with emphasis, getting their collective attention and probably preventing the breaking out of at least three quarrels. "Elm-minster suggested us to f-find more help. I'm the only one who can m-move around more or less freely, b-but I don't know Athk-katla or its inhabitants. You n-need to tell me with whom should I get in touch."

"Well," Anomen hesitated. "Perhaps Valygar Corthala?"

"Smart and resolute," Jaheira agreed. "Yes, it's a good idea. We could use more people like him." Aerie had that vague and unpleasant feeling that Jaheira's words had had something to do with her.

"Boo counsels us to invite Valygar's ancestor, too," Minsc volunteered. "It is hard to understand, because Lavok is an evil necromancer, but the wisdom of a hamster is great and inscrutable."

"And one who is capable of building a Planar Sphere is indeed hard to overestimate as an ally," Irenicus finished. "Do you know, berserker, I start to believe that there is more to your animal friend than meets the eye."

"Because you certainly couldn't have thought of it on your own," Edwin murmured scathingly.

Fortunately, Minsc didn't hear him. Dynaheir, who did, chose to ignore the mockery. "I can find that Lavok myself. If he's in a Planar Sphere, he's more or less in the Limbo. His descendant is your job. Anyone else?"

"Bodhi?" Yoshimo suggested reluctantly.

"I'm afraid my dear sister is, as someone put it, unpredictable. In my opinion we'd do well not to inform her about our plans right now."

"Viconia," Imoen said with conviction. "She's about as tough as they go. And she's practical."

Some indignant gasps followed her declaration. Edwin, in contrast, looked pleased. "I second that. (Dark elves have... class.)"

"Th-that'll be enough for now," Khalid stated cautiously. "I m-mean, I'm n-not sure if I'll have th-the chance to contact even the two of th-them till our next m-meeting. I suggest we call the gathering closed."

"I agree ––" Dynaheir began. Then she realized that her chair had disappeared. With a cry of surprise she landed on what was the Limbo equivalent of the ground. Next to her, Minsc fell, too.

"I deem," Edwin's smug voice rang in their ears, "that in this case the verdict should be two one for Thay."


	7. Chapter Six: Stalking the Stalker

A/N: And here comes Valygar, as per MordorianNazgul's request. Thanks to all the reviewers, you make my day! Oh, there's a thing I wanted to clear out: Paladin suggested that the NPCs should play with the game codes. The thing is, they can't, because there's no way for them to reach it. They have to operate from the inside, if you catch my drift.

**Chapter Six: Stalking the Stalker**

The weather in the Umar Hills was remarkably horrid that night. For the first time Khalid was glad that he was incorporeal. It made him impervious to the conditions, so that he could march briskly through the streams of rain and gusts of hurricane-like wind. He was even whistling a rather silly tune.

Another upside to the situation was the fact that he neither tired nor had to eat – in other words, he didn't waste time on resting. And speed was his prime concern now. He had left the group, including now Anomen as well, when they had been preparing to rescue the besieged D'Arnise castle. Since then he had been walking non-stop. He was searching for a certain somebody and he wasn't about to let Alienor get them first.

Climbing the steep and slippery ledges would be nigh unfeasible for an ordinary mortal, but it proved easy for someone whose feet didn't touch the ground anyway. At the top of the hill stood a weather-beaten man, soaked to the skin. He looked bewildered when he saw Khalid.

"Don't m-mind me," the half-elf one said happily. "B-better still, go home. V-valygar will be going soon, t-too."

The small house, stoutly withstanding the fierce elemental attacks several meters away, had to be Valygar Corthala's not so secret hideout. Khalid smiled slightly and turned that way. He felt really good: it was the first occasion since gods know when, that he was able to go where he wished and speak what he pleased. He only wished he could have an ale.

The drenched ranger gazed at the leaving half-elf. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shrugged and decided that he might as well heed his advice.

*****

Valygar Corthala was waiting for someone.

He wasn't entirely sure for whom. He knew only that they would arrive soon and that the perspective filled him with an unnamed dread. Logically thinking, he was ready to assume that he was afraid of the Cowled Wizards coming for him, yet deep inside he felt it wasn't true. There was a person, worse even than them, and the whole setting seemed eerily familiar. Whenever he tried to pinpoint that sensation, though, he felt a burning pain deep in his eye-sockets.

He rose and stepped to the window. Placing his palms on the sill, he looked out, at the rain-lashed wilderness. All of a sudden he understood that he should leave. That there, outside, he would be safer. He longed to breathe in the wind, smelling of earth and wet leaves, to feel the droplets trickle down his shirt...

"I can't," he spoke aloud, to his own surprise. "I must wait here."

That was true, he was sure. He had to wait. But why... and why the... pain...! Valygar turned on his heel with the intention of getting to the door, tripped and pressed his hands to his face. "Something's wrong," he whispered. And then, "It happened before."

His forehead was cool, but he felt feverish. His head was swimming; somewhere in there, just below the surface of consciousness, lay the knowledge he was searching for – the knowledge he couldn't for the life of him reach. He bit his lip, to stop himself from screaming in desperate frustration.

And then a half-elf he had never met before entered his house. "H-hello," he greeted the ranger.

Valygar went numb with shock. It wasn't because the stranger was definitely not the person he had been waiting for; not even because his hair and clothes were dry, despite the raging storm outside. Such details lost their importance in comparison with the fact that the stranger had walked through the door without opening it first.

Valygar soundlessly moved his lips. "Do I know you?" he managed finally, fully aware that it was not the smartest thing to say.

"I d-don't think so," the stranger replied. "You've probably met m-my wife. Does the name Jaheira ring a b-bell?" He waited. Valygar mutely shook his head. "No? P-perhaps Alienor? Can you recall Alienor?"

Valygar blinked. One word, a name... It broke all the dams in his mind in a single moment. He took a step forward and softly, gracefully slumped to the floor.

*****

"Oh d-dear. Wake up, V-valygar. Come on, open your eyes. You know you c-can."

Valygar was mildly surprised. Did those sounds really mean anything? And if so, were they directed towards him? He'd rather it wasn't so. He blearily remembered something wicked, that prowled around like a hungry predator, waiting for the victim to move. Valygar would gladly lie and pretend that he wasn't there, but the voice wouldn't stop.

"St-top it. Don't try to b-be funny. Let m-me know you c-can hear me."

Impatience won. He decided to tell the persistent speaker to shut up and leave him alone. He cracked his eyes open. Wait a minute... why was he sprawled on the floor? He couldn't recall lying down. Besides – on the floor? It would have been stupid...

The memories finally caught up with his wandering brain and pounced on it like a tiger on its prey. Valygar moaned and let his eyelids flutter closed.

"Valygar C-corthala! I expressly f-forbid you to faint for a s-second t-time!"

"I'm not fainting," he answered reluctantly. Finding the right words and articulating them proved tricky beyond all expectation, but he managed it somehow. "I'm gathering my thoughts."

He rolled on his back and opened his eyes again. He was looking straight into the friendly, anxious face of his unknown guest.

"Lie d-down for a moment," he was told. "You scared m-me, I had n-no idea you would react th-that way."

"I am so very sorry," he murmured. After a short pause, he added, "She'll be coming here?"

"Unfort-tunately so. B-but not now, if that's what you're worried ab-bout."

By all appearances, the stranger was a fairly normal half-elf. He did have the brightest red hair that Valygar had ever seen, and eyes of an uncanny, nearly violet shade, but such features weren't all that uncommon among people of mixed blood. Still, there was something weird about him – and suddenly Valygar realized, what exactly. It was the way he was kneeling: as if the floor was a good inch lower for him than for the rest of the world.

"Why don't you tell me," Valygar started, carefully choosing his words, "who you are and what you are doing here?"

"I m-must have forgotten to introduce myself. M-my name is Khalid."

"Jaheira's husband?" Valygar made sure he had heard it right. "Jaheira's LATE husband?"

"I b-beg to differ."

Valygar thought he could now risk getting up. He propped up on one elbow and slowly hauled himself to a sitting position. He waited for the short spell of giddiness to pass, rose and carefully blundered to the nearest chair, on which he fell with a sigh. "You look like a ghost to me," he stated.

"A s-side-effect of a n-not so successful p-plan. You see, w-we tried to kill Alienor."

If Khalid was assuming that Valygar would be astonished, he must have been severely disappointed. The ranger simply beamed. Then again, 'beamed' might not be the best word to describe the grim, wolfish grimace that twisted his dark face.

"You have my regard. Who are 'we'?"

"I, Jaheira, Irenicus, D-dynaheir, Imoen, Anomen, l-later also Yoshimo, Aerie, M-minsc and Edwin. We are currently in the p-process of c-carrying Plan B into effect..."

With knitted brow Valygar heard out the summary of the Avengers' hitherto achievements and fiascos. He was all too willing to support them, but first he had one important question.

"How did you –– know? I," he hesitated, not sure how to express himself, "I suspected that something wasn't right, but..."

"It really w-was Imoen's doing. You know, you c-can't make a p-person become a skilled m-mage just like that and exp-pect them not to notice. She brought round a f-few of us and once w-we knew what was happening... it was just a m-matter of time."

Valygar rose abruptly. "Excellent. What are we doing now?"

"First of all, you need to g-go out."

"Out?" Valygar echoed, aware of a strange unwillingness seeping into his bones. "Where?"

"T-to meet Lavok in Athkatla."

"Fine. Give me a moment to pack some food."

He went to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. He prepared rations for four days of walking, put on a light leather armor, buckled on his katana and took his bow, all the while telling himself that his lack of enthusiasm stemmed from nothing else than the horrid weather.

"I'm done," he said, walking into the room. "We can—" He looked at the door.

Abyss. Black, swirling void, stretching out just beyond the doorstep. And in the abyss, a suggestion of a fading scream.

"I can't..." he whispered.

"You m-must! You must go, or you'll n-never be free!"

Whirl—void—scream, scream, scream...

Sweat dripped from Valygar's forehead. "I must not go..."

"Listen t-to yourself! Are you h-her t-toy or a l-living man?!"

He looked at Khalid vacantly. The half-elf stood next to him, vainly trying to grab his arm. His face was contorted by terror.

"C-can you hear me?!"

Valygar bit his lip. Step by laborious step, he began to move towards the exit. The closer he was, the more arduous a task it became. The air opposed him violently; it was like wading through setting magma. He often had to stop and rest, to gather strength for further fighting with his own disobedient muscles. In spite of that, he endured, stubbornly shuffling along, gritting his teeth harder and harder, until at last he was able to touch the crude wooden door.

Now, to press the handle... He raised his hand and seized it clumsily. As soon as his fingers touched the metal, he felt like holding a bar of white-hot iron. It was all he could do to stifle a cry. After a few seconds, he forced himself to clench his fist and press. The handle resisted like it formed a monolith with the door and the frame. Valygar panted and raised his other hand, putting all his weight against the offending piece of iron. His head whirled and his heart was beating so frantically, as if it was to burst soon. Waves of pain ran all the way up from his right palm. Then, when he thought that burnt flesh was starting to fall off from his bones, he heard a barely audible click, followed by a creak. The door was open.

Valygar wanted to sing, shout and dance, but he was too tired for any of that. His legs felt like cotton when he wobbled down the stairs and collapsed onto the wet grass. Sweat and rain mixed on his face and together flowed to the ground.

Khalid appeared in the doorway, smiling. "Well d-done," he said quietly. "I was a t-tad afraid that..."

"Not a... toy... Nobody's toy..." Valygar wheezed. He brought his right hand to his eyes: it was healthy, no trace of burns. His mouth hurt, though, and there was an odd coppery taste in it. He gingerly touched his bottom lip. When he removed his fingers, they were wet with blood.

"You bit yourself," Khalid informed him unnecessarily.

Valygar lay quietly and breathed deeply until he was sure that the first move wouldn't result in a heart attack. Cold was gradually getting to him, although the armor prevented him from soaking. Eventually he coughed and rose to his knees. "Those were by far the worst moments in my entire life," he confessed solemnly. "I really do hate her."

Khalid's mouth twitched. "You t-tell me? It was b-bad enough when she f-forced me to wear that h-horrible Ankheg armor – the b-bloody thing was green like a grassh-hopper and stank like the Ank-kheg had n-never left it – but when she'd t-taken to c-calling me 'Froggers'... That r-really was adding insult t-to injury."

Valygar Corthala threw back his head and released the whole tension of the past hours in one long, healing gust of laughter.


	8. Chapter Seven: Bloodstains on Red

A/N: Merry Christmas and a happy new year, everyone!

**Chapter Seven: Bloodstains on Red**

Alone in his room on the top floor of Mae'Var's guild, Edwin paced.

Pardon me: he did not pace, because Red Wizards never pace. He strode, with dignity befitting a wizard of Thay. However, for an ignorant onlooker it would still look like pacing. The carpet perceived no difference either; Edwin's feet had already worn out a not so elegant path in it.

Never in his life would Edwin admit it, but he was plagued by feelings of uncertainty and helplessness. Such a thing never bode well in his case. Usually he attempted to prove himself as well as the rest of the world that he was in control, which in nine times out of ten brought dreadful confusion and a severe migraine to all the parties. There were nevertheless occasions, when the outcome was positive – more or less – and they served for further reassuring Edwin that this course of action was the best one possible.

What was more, he didn't have the highest opinion of Khalid's competence. If he was the one to find a solution, he reasoned, then it would be wise to try and befriend Mae'Var, because they would be spending an awful lot of time together.

To wrap things up, he was of the mind that only one person was capable of dealing with the mess they were into. Incidentally, that person was a certain handsome, intelligent (and modest, let us not forget modest) Red Wizard. With each passing minute he was more convinced that he should go and see things done.

If he hadn't been facing the stairs directly, he might have missed the moment of the change.

One second it was a perfectly normal staircase, perhaps a bit rickety, perhaps a little steep, but all in all no more dangerous than your typical staircase in a building occupied by thieves, cutthroats and smugglers; the next, it simply disappeared, covered by a darkness that suggested that reasonable people would rather keep away.

Edwin absolutely did not cry out. Red Wizards allow nobody and nothing to surprise them, not even vanishing stairways. Right. So he didn't cry out and then proceeded to calmly and without panic analyze the circumstances.

It had to be another maneuver of Alienor. Stairs wouldn't have suddenly decided that they were bored and that it was time to get some exercise. No, it was designed to keep him in the guild. The nerve! But it wasn't that easy to trap a wizard! (Especially a Red Wizard of Thay.) Most probably the staircase still existed and the darkness was there only to scare him.

He glanced at it.

Mm. On the other hand, he wouldn't stake his life on that.

Yet, yet it had to exist! He had walked up and down them so often... or hadn't he... He wasn't sure. He was no longer sure of anything...

"Curse you!" he shouted, waving his fists in the air. "Your petty mind games are wasted on me! You'll soon fall before my power! (And then I'll make sure you'll never rise again.)"

He forced himself to calm. A Red Wizard must think rationally, act rationally and drown his opponents in vats of acid. There had to be more than one escape route. Windows. There were the windows. And he was sure he had seen a rope in Garay's chest.

The chest was closed, but Edwin was prepared for that. He concentrated and muttered a simple opening spell. Then he lifted the lid. Naturally, he helped himself not only to the rope, but also to a bulging purse he chanced to find. Really, anyone who leaves money lying around – in a Thieves' Guild, for crying out loud – is a bona fide fool and deserves to be relieved of said money.

Edwin turned. The rope and the purse slipped from his fingers.

There were no windows in the wall.

"How!? How in the deepest, vilest Abyss is this possible!?"

Despite there being no sources of light, the room wasn't at all dark. On the outside, he remembered well enough, the guild had windows just like any house. On the inside... until now it appeared obvious. Evidently, obvious is not the same as actual...

Edwin gnashed his teeth. "I will get out," he swore in a choking voice. "And you will pay."

He stepped to the wall and experimentally knocked on it around the place where he had last seen the window. The wall replied with a hollow, stony sound. Edwin sighed and closed his eyes. And he froze. What he was now feeling under his touch was—glass!

For a few seconds the mage was afraid even to breathe, as it might shatter the precious illusion. When nothing of the sort happened, he hit the windowpane with his fist, his eyes still shut. Then he hit it again, and again, each time harder. Presently, with a jingling sigh of dying glass, the pane broke and showered his feet with a rain of sparkles.

Edwin opened his eyes. He was breathing heavily. Absentmindedly he sucked at his hand, deeply cut at the shards. He felt the bites of pain, but he forgot them just as soon. Nothing counted, nothing else than the window he could now see. An ordinary window. Wind blew through the broken pane, tugging playfully at his hair.

He tried to open it with his good hand and was surprised at how easily it went. Eyes fixed on the sky outside, he bent to pick up the purse and the rope. He wiped his still bleeding palm on the sleeve of his red robe and started tying the rope to the window frame. One couldn't spend as much time among thieves as he did, and not learn at least the making of proper knots.

He looked proudly at his handiwork and cleared his throat, feeling the need to say something significant. "And so once again the intellect triumphs over brutal simian force. Write it in golden letters."

Tucking up his robe, he swung his legs over the sill. Garay's rope was under a minor enchantment, so that it wouldn't break, no matter what weight should be tied to it; he should know, as he had done the job himself. He could just hope that the frame had similar proprieties.


	9. Chapter Eight: Two Mages and a Handful o...

A/N: Um... yeah, took my sweet time. Sorry for the wait :)

**Chapter Eight: Two Mages and a Handful of Troubles**

However much were Khalid and Valygar different, both in terms of temper and the philosophy of life, they did indeed have one thing in common: they weren't overly fond of cities. A city by day was full of scum, human and otherwise; a city by night, in Valygar's opinion, was only darker and more dangerous. Especially the Slums, where unfortunately the Planar Sphere had landed.

Keeping to the shadows and avoiding unwanted attention had so far brought desired results. Khalid, being of elvish ancestry, could see in the dark quite well and was able to spot any passersby long before they would spot them. They sneaked through the district without problem and now, shortly after sunrise, were standing at the doorstep of the Planar Sphere: a narrow balcony that overlooked the neighborhood. Judging by the nearby houses, they had to be at about third-storey level. The Sphere itself loomed over them, a structure far more imposing than any in the district, perhaps in the whole Athkatla. It looked very out of place among the mostly derelict buildings around it.

"Well, now..." Valygar was saying. "Give me a moment..."

He ran his hands over the barely visible door. It glowed and slipped into the wall with a quiet screech, exposing the darkness within.

"That's it?" Khalid asked in a slightly disappointed voice. "I was exp-pecting something m-more sp-pectacular. You know, l-like a spell or s-something."

"To say the truth, so was I. I am so disenchanted, Valygar Corthala."

Valygar's blood first froze and then mounted to his head in a wave of heat. That repulsive, mocking voice... "Tolgerias!" he hissed, turning.

"D-damn," Khalid echoed.

The Cowled Wizard's face was twisted in an ugly, triumphant sneer. His watery eyes were bright with an unhealthy light. He also happened to be blocking the way to the stairs. "I knew that with the right amount of patience on my part the prey would walk straight into my arms. Thank you so much for opening the door... alas, I'm afraid that I no longer need you now."

Valygar swore and jumped at him, but Tolgerias hadn't come unprepared. He said a word and his whole body glowed. Instead of cleanly beheading the mage, Valygar's katana bounced off his neck with a clang. Valygar swore for a second time, recognizing a nifty protective spell. To defeat a wizard who was using that little trick, one had to be lucky. Very, very lucky.

He attacked Tolgerias again, in an attempt to push him over the balcony edge. The wizard took two steps back, but he was still casting some sort of a spell. From the look on his face Valygar could tell that it was meant to be extremely unpleasant. Seeing it coming, he did what any reasonable person would do: flattened himself at the wall and watched the curse zoom past.

He also saw it hitting Khalid square on the chest.

The mixture of pain and surprise on the half-elf's face, after he had realized that he had been affected with a petrification spell, made Tolgerias laugh out loud.

"It's – impos—" Khalid managed to whisper, before his body turned to cold stone. Tolgerias laughed even louder at that. He stopped, however, when a shaking with fury Valygar punched him on the chin. The wizard reeled. He tottered precariously at the edge...

...until five glowing balls of pure energy hit him on the chest and sent him flying. Of course, it was that sort of a flight that always ends in a nasty fall.

Valygar waited for the scream to come to an end and looked down. Tolgerias had an open mind, speaking quite literally. Valygar spat and turned around, to face the dark silhouette looming in the door to the Sphere.

"Welcome, descendant," spoke Lavok the necromancer. "I must say you've got a knack for making dramatic entrances.

"Probably a family trait," Valygar countered. "You weren't in a big hurry, now, were you?"

Lavok snorted. "First walk alone among beholders, elementals and man-eating halflings, my boy, and then we'll talk about hurry and multiple definitions thereof. I must be growing senile," he confessed sotto voce, "because I cannot for the life of me recall what did I need that great big aquarium with the sahuagin for. Oh, well, I somewhat heated the atmosphere and right now I have large quantities of fish soup instead. Pity the halflings are no more, too, for they might have appreciated that."

Valygar was tired of that rubbish. He approached Lavok. "Can you free him from that spell?" he asked, pointing at Khalid.

Lavok – now he could see him more clearly – squinted at the half-elven statue. "Mm... that must be the one that hot chocolate told me to expect? A good-looking dame, no denying that – had everything in the right place, if you know what I mean... What?" he added, seeing that Valygar started to say something. "I may be old..."

"...and basically dead..." the ranger interrupted with resignation.

"...but it doesn't make me blind! Besides, even a blind man would notice such large..."

"Lavok."

"Eyes. She had really large eyes. Really really. To say nothing of..."

"Lavok. I will ask again. Can you help Khalid?"

Lavok left the dreamland with obvious displeasure. He studied the half-elf once more. "No, I think I cannot. I can't remember the counterspell, it appears. No need to worry, though: either the city changed very much in the past five hundred years, or there is still some temple nearby, selling Stone to Flesh scrolls. You will have to go there, that's all."

"Me?! I'm wanted for murder!"

"Well, do you think I should rather go?"

Valygar sent his ancestor a scrutinizing look. Lavok Corthala could have been a handsome man once, one to capture the ladies' attention. Currently... ah, currently he would capture anyone's attention, no exceptions. With a generous dose of goodwill, one could overlook his ash-hued skin and his hair, unwashed since a few hundred years. However, it was hard not to notice that the necromancer's eyes were glowing red, not unlike the color of dying fire. A priest of any religion, upon seeing something like that walk into his place of worship, would exorcise first and ask questions later.

"Apart from anything else," the necromancer provided, "I would probably die the moment I stuck my nose outside. I do not intend to take risks. Are you going, or will you help me move that one a little farther to the left? I have nothing against sculpture, mind you, but not upon my very doorstep."

Valygar glared at him for this. "I'm going. Give me the money."

"Well and good, nobody deserves to spend eternity with such a silly expression... What?! What money?"

"Money," Valygar patiently explained, "to buy that scroll. I don't have much gold. Actually, I have almost no gold at all."

After much grumbling and complaining, Lavok eventually extracted a purse from the pocket of his slightly tattered robe. "Remember," he instructed Valygar when the ranger was hurriedly counting the coins, "you need to buy a few of those handy healing potions. Petrification has bad aftereffects on all internal organs."

Valygar raised his head. "This is barely enough for a scroll."

"Pardon me? In my times this was a small fortune! Never mind, I'm not going back for more. I've had enough to do with golems to last me a lifetime. Simply find a cleric who feels like committing a good deed today."

"So early in the morning and for free? Even the priests of Ilmater aren't so—"

Valygar paused. He remembered what Khalid had told him. There was one cleric, and perhaps she would help – not out of benevolence, but, say, in return for having been freed...

"Wait for me," he said. "I will return soon."


	10. Chapter Nine: Burn, Drow, Burn!

A/N: The delay was mostly due to the fact that I had a big dance at school – kinda like a prom, you know, but it is two days long (!). There's the ball one day, all people dressed in formal clothes etc. and there's the 'afterball' the next day. Fun, but tiring. Anyway, thanks to the reviewers as always, and I can proudly announce that this fic is drawing to a close. I've got the end in sight: five more chapters, four, maybe.

**Chapter Nine: Burn, Drow, Burn!**

On a cool, fresh morning of that summer day the streets of Athkatla were slowly filling with people. Golden light gave the crowd a semblance of splendor, making it alike to a sea during a sunset: rolling, ever-changing and constantly flashing the observers some new and exquisite color. Among that visual cacophony stood out a spot of red – a tall man dressed in an ankle-length robe. The throng was parting before him left and right. It was obvious that he was one of THEM and of course no decent person would want to have dealings with THOSE.

Edwin half-consciously registered that fact with satisfaction, as an indication of rightful respect for a wizard (and not just any wizard, but a Red Wizard of Thay!), but on the whole his mind was on an entirely different subject. The previous night he had spent on throwing Garay's money away for alcohol and, cough, other pleasures. In the morning his sense of duty had kicked in. (As had the hangover, but it's another story entirely.) Therefore he had slipped out of the bed... ah... never mind; it's enough to say that even before he had made it to the street, he already had had a plan.

His plan was chiefly based upon a decision to walk to the Government District, where Viconia was supposed to be, and then try to find said Viconia. The details were still somewhat foggy, but generally Edwin was pretty content with his strategy. After all, if something like that wasn't too complicated for that stuttering amateur, why then, he should do it without breaking a sweat! He did not doubt that in the right moment he would know what to do.

The right moment however came as a slight surprise to him. Well, perhaps it wouldn't have been so if he had noticed that the mob around him had grown thicker, forcing him to push his way among standing people. Then again, Edwin had never been one to pay attention to such trivialities. Instinctively distributing punches and kicks, he found himself in the first row and froze there, rooted to the spot by a loud and obscene drow swearword.

Four armored men were dragging – and occasionally carrying – among themselves a Dark Elven female in a dirty, tattered dress. The elf was struggling, shouting, kicking and all in all making herself a nuisance. Her beautiful face was twisted by fear and anger. But mostly anger.

Edwin took a deep breath. He knew that if one was behaving with the right amount of audacity, then sometimes, sometimes nobody dared to question their demands...

"Halt!" he bellowed. "By the leave of the Cowled Wizards, I'm arresting this drow!"

Viconia's eyes grew wide as saucers. Immediately, however, they glimmered with amusement. Luckily, Edwin was the only one who noticed.

"But..." the leader stuttered, waving his hand in the general direction of a hastily constructed stake. "But we..."

"Silence, you filthy ape!" Edwin interrupted him in a loud voice. "The drow is coming with me and if you have any qualms about it, we'll be happy to convince you otherwise," he paused, "in Spellhold."

The faces of three out of four men turned slightly green to that. They let go of Viconia as if she burnt them. The priestess smoothed her hair and leisurely walked to Edwin. Her expression was inscrutable.

"Wait here..." the leader spoke with suspicion. "Since when do the Cowlies wear red?"

"Some Cowlie he is!" called someone from the crowd, which was greedily taking in the unusual events. "He's that no-good mage of Mae'Var's, m'lord! The black one's mate, and no mistake!"

"Well, mage?" the fanatic narrowed his eyes. His friends reached for their respective weapons as one. "Mr. False Cowlie? What say you?"

"For, you see, my good man..." Edwin started. Behind him, Viconia was whispering something under her breath.

"Aargh," the fanatic said. And he fell. His blood flowed wide over the paving stones. Someone in the crowd screamed.

Valygar came to the rescue.

The ranger wasted no time in ensuring that the enemy was dead. He whirled in an acrobatic pirouette, using his katana to balance his movements. He used his momentum to fall among the other three and force them to scatter. Two of them were easily provoked and jumped at him, swords raised high, yet the last one must have decided that the wizard would pose less of a threat. Viconia was all but shouting now.

Edwin was suddenly acutely aware that using magic thirty meters away from the Cowled Wizards' city headquarters was not that great of an idea. Plus, apart from spells, he only had one puny dagger to defend himself with. To be more precise, he realized it all while madly dodging a sword stroke that was to split his head like an orange. He almost tripped over his own robe in the process. For a second, he and his opponent surveyed each other. And then Edwin blindly threw his dagger, a weapon singularly unsuitable for throwing, at the armed man.

Tymora must have smiled on him that day. It was by pure luck that the dagger logged itself in the man's left eye. As it is often said, 'he was dead before he hit the ground'.

Viconia spread her hands in the last chord of her spell. One of the men fighting Valygar froze. Only by the way his eyes moved could one guess that he still lived. The ranger wasted no time and finished his other enemy with a quick, economical cut.

The mob swayed angrily.

"Abyss," Edwin wheezed; he was rather pale after his close brush with death.

"They'll start throwing stones any minute now," Viconia cautioned.

"Run for it!" Valygar concluded.

They rushed to the gate of the district. The threatening calls behind them served to gift them with an almost unnatural speed. Passing by the astonished guard, they left behind the wall separating the district from the rest of the town, but they never stopped. As Viconia had predicted, the mob had now started flinging stones at them.

Valygar, the one with the best knowledge of Athkatla, was leading. They ran down crooked stairs, smoothed by countless feet that had trodden on their stony surface, they turned left and then left again. If Edwin wasn't mistaken, they were taking the shortest way to the Bridge District. Behind them, the sounds of chase had quieted somehow, but not died altogether yet.

Valygar shot a glance back. "I don't understand... From what Khalid told us, I expected those people to show the intelligence and activity of a brick. Why are they chasing us?"

He was a bit short of breath, but nothing else. Edwin gritted his teeth in jealousy. Although, contrary to most wizards, he did try to keep fit, running marathons was not a part of his daily training program. His lungs were about to explode and, what's more, he had had to tuck up his robe to stop it from tangling around his legs. "I've got _huff_ no idea! Probably _puff_ that idiot got something _wheeze_ wrong! I'll have a word _puff_ with him as soon as I _gasp cough cough_ see him! Where is he?"

"Waiting in the Planar Sphere," Valygar quickly answered. "But, you see, there's been a problem..."

"Experience tells me," Viconia cut in, gracefully leaping over a large puddle of water, "that when one is being pursued, they shouldn't waste their breath on discuss—"

It hit them all at once. The world lurched, twisted liked the body of a Calimshite dancer – and disappeared. It came back a split second later and Edwin realized that they were still running. It was just that the puddle of water was now several meters before them. He halted and looked at his companions with wide eyes.

They stopped, too. Viconia's face showed more fright than when four armed lunatics had tried to burn her at a stake. "It's her!" she hissed. "The Bhaalspawn! She's turned back the time!"

"She must be in the city," Valygar whispered, his mouth pale and bloodless. "Alienor is close!"


	11. Chapter Ten: Turning the Scales

**Chapter Ten: Turning the Scales**

Yoshimo was tired. The party had been marching non-stop for the past twenty-four hours, and more before that. After rescuing the Castle D'Arnise, Alienor had led them to Umar Hills, where, to her immense astonishment, they had not found Valygar. Exhausted as he was, Yoshimo still chuckled when he remembered the Bhaalspawn's face. She wasn't used to people slipping from her claws! The party, however, hadn't so far profited from this, because Alienor had made them walk back to Athkatla at a hellish pace. Furthermore, Yoshimo's ribs, broken in an encounter with an exceptionally aggressive troll, were paining him more and more with each moment. The familiar buildings and the narrow, dirty streets of this less-than-respectable part of Athkatla were swimming in front of his eyes. All in all, he had no chance to notice the arrow in time.

His body flared up with a short, blinding pain, and he had this feeling of suffocating, when his punctured throat tried in vain to take a breath of air. No longer hearing the cries of his friends or the sound of blades being unsheathed, Yoshimo toppled face-down on the rough pavement and knew no more.

A strong yank brought his consciousness back. He recognized the process and resigned himself to it; he had had it happen to him many times before. Nobody was ever allowed to die until Alienor said so.

Once again he was walking down a narrow, dirty street of Athkatla, tired and hurting – but now he knew from where the arrow would come...

*****

Stealthy as a cat, Valygar emerged from a dark alleyway. "They're just behind that corner," he informed Edwin and Viconia. "Some brawl with a local band of brigands, I think."

"Can we bypass them somehow, _rivvin_?"

"It will be a long walk," Edwin answered in place of Valygar. "And the one good thing is that the monkeys have stopped chasing us. (It's all because of that incompetent fool. Oh yes, I will have a thorough talk with him, once we reach the Planar Sphere!)"

*****

On the way Valygar had managed to explain that Khalid was temporarily unable to talk with anybody. Asked to heal him, Viconia had reacted with detached amusement, the same that was now visible in her expression as she was reading the words of the Stone-to-Flesh scroll. Sunshine flickered on her ebony skin and reflected in her white hair like in snow. Behind her, dangerously close to the edge of the balcony, Edwin was shifting his feet and muttering something under his breath. Valygar was waiting behind Khalid. ("You may have to catch him. Probably he will be unconscious," Viconia had told him.) Lavok the necromancer was observing everything from the doorstep of the Sphere.

The spell reached its climax. Colors appeared on Khalid's face. 'Wait,' a thought raced through Valygar's brain, 'I won't be able to catch him, he's...' Then Khalid staggered and the ranger supported him instinctively.

In a split second he comprehended the oddity. He was holding a body, a living, breathing, MATERIAL body.

Khalid coughed. A stream of blood flowed on his chin.

"Carry him inside!" Viconia commanded.

"Edwin, help me!" Valygar chorused, shifting the weight in his arms a little. The wizard didn't protest, although his expression was speaking volumes. He and Valygar placed Khalid on the metal floor of the vestibule and let Viconia take care of him. Valygar walked to the exit, turning his back on the dark, stifling room. His heart was beating frantically. Was it possible... was...

A cool wind, smelling of salt, was tugging at his clothes. In the background he could hear snippets of conversation. "_Jaluk_," Viconia was saying, "your hand should not be placed on my backside. Remove it, or I will help you."

"Oh, excuse me," Lavok was apologizing, "I am so old... Sometimes I forget what to do with my hands..."

"Mage..."

"Yes?"

"I would also be grateful if you stopped ogling my breasts whenever I moved."

"Lavok," Edwin called in a slightly muffled voice, as if from afar. "There are three dead bodies in plate mail here."

Hearing that, Valygar turned. He saw Viconia leaning over Khalid and reciting a prayer to Shar. Lavok was standing next to her and Edwin was peeking into the next room.

"Yes, I know," Lavok agreed. "You see, I had a small disagreement with a tribe of halflings and some of them took cover in here, so I sent them a cloud of poisonous gas... How was I to know that some paladins had moved in?"

"The less of them, the better, anyway. (I'd much rather deal with a demon that one of those metal-clad simians.)"

Suddenly Khalid stirred and opened his eyes. "Ah," said Viconia, straightening and brushing her hair from her forehead. "You are awake, half-breed. How do you feel?"

"A b-bit sore..." he began, supporting himself on an elbow. He stopped. Touched the floor. Looked at his hand. Touched the floor again. A big smile broke on his face.

"We d-did it!"


	12. Chapter Eleven: Headaches and Other Hard...

A/N: If you're reading this, Slide, I'm sorry that I didn't send this chapter to you, but when I finally translated it (today), I wanted to post it ASAP. I know, I'm disgustingly lazy. Probably all the readers have run away from this fic a long time ago...

**Chapter Eleven: Headaches and Other Hardships**

_Kez was, on the whole, in a rather sour mood. She had planned to play 'BG 2' for a while and, by the by, complete Valygar's quest. Then she learned that the ranger was not in the Umar Hills, neither in any logically possible place. What's more, she was unable to locate Tolgerias. The conclusion was obvious: her snot-nosed little punk of a brother had stuck his dirty paws into her saves, although she had explicitly forbidden him to do it for God knows how many times! Brothers really are the bane of this world!_

This trail of thinking naturally led her to the statement, 'All men are pigs.' It had, clearly enough, something to do with her current emotional status; Kez was for the moment quite critical towards the male half of humankind. It bode ill for anybody who dared to cross her path.

Kez put her glasses on, waiting till the game loaded a new area. 'Alienor is lucky,' she thought wistfully. 'Her guy would never ever cheat on her. Wonder why I've never met anyone like that.'

*****

The air in the Copper Coronet was often somewhat... heavy. Cheap perfume, even cheaper beer, sweat and the unique damp smell from the cellar mixed together in an aroma that made the beginners' eyes water on the spot. Anomen was no beginner, though, and still, nobody smelled anything anymore after a few minutes in the inn – a natural defense on the olfactory receptors' part. It was not because of the smell that Anomen didn't like the Coronet. His worst memories were connected to this drinking hole. Here he always met Alienor for the first time...

Anomen scowled and washed down the nasty taste in his mouth with wine. He refrained from spitting on the floor, because he had good manners, not because it would hurt the floor any. The habitual – and bloody – takeover of the inn by Hendak changed nothing in its dark, filthy and stinky decor, not for the better, that is. In Lethinan's time one could at least touch the table without getting stuck to the accumulated grime. One thing was certain: the Coronet would seem much friendlier to him if it wasn't for the presence of Alienor under its roof. Who knows, he might even like it...

He drank some more wine. He was drinking mostly to forget about Alienor and, since it wasn't working, he kept drinking more. He was in grave danger of becoming a drunkard like his father. On the other hand, if he was to choose between the miserable life of a drunkard and—

No! Anomen shivered violently. It was best not to dwell on some things, lock them away in the darkest recesses of his tortured soul. He could PERHAPS get over all his misfortunes caused by Alienor: the deaths of his sister and father, the humiliations, the disownment; but the sexual abuse was the last straw. 'She looks like an ogre in a drag,' he moaned silently. 'Really... Maybe some people find bulging muscles enticing, but...' He had no strength to finish this thought.

There weren't many people in the inn that day. Therefore Anomen easily noticed a slim, fair-haired half-elf who appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing her still sleepy eyes. Jaheira saw him, too, and walked to his table. Fortunately, she didn't appear to be in the mood to talk. Anomen wanted only to sit down for a moment, until Alienor rose and threw them headlong into some new, though horribly familiar, 'adventure'.

Jaheira seated herself next to him on a rickety high-backed chair. She looked grim and aggressive, although it might have been just a feature of her character. At any rate, Anomen rarely had the chance to see her in another mood.

"No one came?" she asked shortly and slightly unnecessarily. If Khalid or Valygar had come when she had been sleeping, Anomen wouldn't have waited so long to tell her.

He started to shake his head, when something caught his attention. He straightened his back, looking attentively over Jaheira's shoulder. "Speak of the..." he said incredulously.

Jaheira turned around fast, following his line of sight. A reflexive smile appeared on her lips. It did wonders for her severe expression. She even waved her hand at Khalid, who was standing at the door and searching the room with his glance. His hair, illuminated by the fire burning in a large furnace, seemed red like the flame itself.

Khalid must have noticed them, for he smiled with relief and went their way, weaving round tables and excusing himself whenever he happened to collide with anyone.

How come – collide...? Anomen's heart did a mad leap. If Khalid was no longer a ghost-look-alike...

He was so preoccupied with pondering this new turn of situation that he failed to perceive the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. The moves of the patrons were all of a sudden slow and mechanic, and their voices took on an inhuman clarity and regularity. If the knight had looked around, he would have seen a gathering of human toys that had scared Khalid so.

Suspecting nothing, Anomen stretched his hand out at Khalid, who had just reached their table.

"Alienor!" Jaheira hissed desperately.

Khalid seemed to vanish into thin air. Only a muffled curse let Anomen know that he hid under the table. They froze like birds hypnotized by a snake. Anomen lacked to courage to even look behind him.

"She's coming here," Jaheira informed him in a hoarse whisper.

Anomen studied her face. He read the silent plea in her eyes. His eyelids fluttered closed and he decided on a deed that was – he felt – in equal parts selfless and stupid. He downed the rest of his wine in one gulp, stood up and said, "I'll keep her busy," and, quietly this time, "pray for my soul."

Alienor beamed at him and sent him a kiss. Anomen replied with an awful grimace, which was supposed to be joyful, but in reality made him look like someone forced him to eat rotten meat. Alienor didn't mind it, though.

Anomen caught up with her before she managed to descend the stairs. In his mind there was a void almost as perfect as in the Limbo. He didn't know how to 'keep Alienor busy' – apart from one way, one thoroughly evil way.

The wine provided him with a sort of courage; or it might have been sheer desperation. He took Alienor's hand. "Will you talk with me, my lady?" he asked in a voice that didn't shake... much.

*****

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, it isn't happening..._

In the world outside Anomen's mind some things were about to happen that filled the young knight with a deep sense of dread. He'd rather be as far from that hostile world as possible, for the moment.

_Ten green bottles hanging on the wall, ten green bottles hanging on the wall..._

"Oh, Anomen..."

_And if a one green bottle should... accidentally fall... there will be..._

"My love..."

_Help._

"Oh, um... I've got a headache!"

*****

_Kez felt her jaw fall and hit the desktop. "I've got a headache"?! It had never happened before, nothing of that sort! Impossible! Absolutely, completely, totally impossible! Very much shaken, she pressed Quicksave and exited the game._

"I must be hallucinating," she whimpered. Too late it occurred to her that she should have checked again if she had actually seen those words, or if she had been mistaken.

Mistaken, she told herself firmly. She must have been.

*****

Anomen had never been so glad to return to the Limbo. Honestly.


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Last Debate

A/N: They've opened a Neverwinter Nights category! I'm so happy. I think I'll write a story for it – I've got one half-ready – as soon as I finish this one. Which is very soon: this chapter is the second-to-last one. Yeah, only one more chapter to go :) And Magicman, you may find a quote of Daevan here (hint: Xzar's lines) ;)

**Chapter Twelve: The Last Debate**

"He is talking to her," Jaheira reported quietly. "They are going upstairs... Well, I must say that Anomen is a foolish young man with an uncanny ability to irritate everyone in his vicinity, but at the moment I do pity him."

As if he heard her, Anomen sent the druid a pitiful glance of a man condemned to death. She answered with a look that spoke, _Pull yourself together!_ She could pity him, but she was still Jaheira.

"What's happening n-now?" Khalid asked her from under the table.

"They are gone," she replied after a second. "You can come out."

But it turned out that Khalid wasn't in that big a hurry. "It's really quite comfortable d-down here. D-do you know, Jaheira," he added, slightly off-topic, "you've got really p-pretty legs. I've almost forgotten how p-pretty..." To prove his point, he slowly moved his hand from her ankle up to her knee.

Jaheira needed her whole self-control in order not to smile. "Don't be childish!" she snorted. Even to her it didn't sound very convincing. She had to admit defeat. "Then, if you like sitting under tables, you have the right to do it. I only wanted to tell you something..."

Her voice trailed off. She looked around at the dark and smoke-filled room. The people in it, the whispered conversations in some of its dark corners, even the stench of badly burnt meat – they all created an illusion of freedom, of blessed normality. She could just about believe it, if only she hadn't seen people turned to mindless drones by the mere presence of Alienor. She cleared her throat, berating herself for getting emotional. Yet something was eating at her soul. She wanted to hear what Khalid had to say about it, as only from him she didn't fear condescension or plain mockery.

"I'm afraid," she confessed reluctantly. Such words didn't come easy to Jaheira. "I've been thinking about what Elminster has told us. Athkatla is partially real, as is he. So there is another world, the real world, apart from the cage that Alienor made for us. Are we..."

"Yes?"

"To what extent are we real?" Jaheira shot the question that had been tormenting her for many days. "Are we just pawns in Alienor's game of chess? When the game is over, will we be over, too?"

"I c-can't answer that," Khalid said solemnly, putting his head in her lap. "If you were certain th-that the a-answer is yes, wouldn't you t-try to free yourself b-by any m-means, anyway?"

"I would rather prefer those that didn't involve me dying, thank you very much," Jaheira countered. A slight smile reappeared on her lips. She too had almost forgotten something because of Alienor: almost forgotten that she had a husband whom she loved. It was good to spend some time with him and remember.

Suddenly her lungs were gripped by an iron fist. Jaheira nearly shouted in her surprise, but her vocal chords weren't working properly. For a moment she was scared, however when the world around her started spinning, she realized that they were being returned to the Limbo. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn't easily admit it, but the moment of transition always made her nauseous.

Closing her eyes didn't help that much. She was whirling faster and faster, she couldn't breathe, she was suffocating... Then it ended, as swiftly as it had begun. There was no chair under her, so she fell to the ground, or what would have been the ground if there had been any ground in the Limbo. And something heavy landed on top of her.

"Um, yes. This is a rather n-nice beginning," Khalid spoke.

Jaheira opened her eyes. Apart from her husband's face, a few inches away from her own, she saw light. A lot of it. It had always been dark in the Limbo before.

"So sorry," she heard Dynaheir speaking with a trace of irony, "are we interrupting?"

Jaheira had some suitably venomous remark prepared... but she said nothing, the words frozen on her lips. While searching for Dynaheir, her eyes took in another sight. The table stood on a dais, surrounded with rows upon rows of chairs. On them...

"News t-travel f-fast," Khalid muttered.

On them sat pretty much everybody who Jaheira had met during her travels through Faerun with Alienor. And they were all staring on her and Khalid, sprawled quite suggestively in the middle of the dais.

The druid felt her cheeks go crimson. And it didn't happen often, believe me.

*****

They had to enlarge the table to make room for Valygar, Viconia and Lavok (who, to his utter disappointment, was seated a safe distance away from Dynaheir). Soon everyone was there: a disheveled Anomen, nervously tugging at the collar of his shirt, Imoen, her face pale and weary, a silent, focused Yoshimo... Thousands of eyes were fixed on them from all around the room. It was quiet, like everyone was waiting for some great change to come.

Khalid signaled to Valygar to start talking. The ranger briefly summarized the recent events, at least those in which he had participated himself. Yoshimo's account then followed, and Jaheira's, meant to clarify the situation to those who were not parts of the original group. When they were finished, the room filled with excited whispers.

Imoen raised her head. "So it is ending..." she said quietly, but with joy. "Good."

"About time, I would say," Irenicus agreed. "I'm afraid that if we do not act at once, little Imoen will loose her soul in a matter of hours. Now, we wouldn't want that, would we?"

He didn't seem to be bothered by several icy stares sent his way. Either way, in this very moment some kind of commotion erupted in the third row of seats. A tall, bony wizard with a thick mane of dirty hair and large tattoos on his face sprang from his chair and screamed something, waving his thing arms.

"Xzar!" Khalid and Jaheira shouted as one.

"Aah! The demon has come!" Xzar howled, frothing at the mouth. "It will devour our beating hearts and suck the marrow from our bones!"

"Will someone silence that raving lunatic?" Edwin groaned irritably.

The day was saved by the person sitting next to Xzar, a cute red-haired halfling girl, who gracefully kicked the wizard's legs from under him and pushed him to his chair. He tried to get up, but another woman, tall and blonde, with a bust that barely fit into her modest green dress, punched him straight on the chin. Xzar smiled blissfully and fell back, unconscious. Saliva dribbled from his slightly open mouth.

"Who's that?!" Edwin, Anomen and Lavok asked simultaneously.

"I th-think her name is M-Mazzy..."

"Not the halfling, you indolent fool!" Edwin waved his hand impatiently. "The... blonde one!"

"Oh. That w-would be Branwen, a p-priestess of Tempus."

Jaheira folded her arms. "Stop behaving like irresponsible children! We aren't here for social purposes! Be quiet and—"

"Jaheira..." Aerie interrupted her. Everyone, including Jaheira of course, turned to look at her. Aerie reddened and lowered her eyes, but continued, "You should... you should stop telling people what to do." She took a deep breath. "I think that... that you aren't a nice, polite person... and your dreadlocks make you look like a broom!"

She broke off, terrified by her own audacity. Nobody spoke: all waited for Jaheira to act. The druid studied the shivering Aerie for a long time. "You have been thinking like this since time, haven't you, Aerie?" she finally said.

"Yes, Jaheira."

"Try not to stifle such feelings next time. It is very unhealthy."

"Yes, Jaheira."

The druid nodded and looked around. No one was laughing openly, although Imoen had obvious troubles with keeping a straight face. Jaheira decided that a change of subject would be in order. Fortunately, Dynaheir came to her aid.

"We are very close to our goal. Our fates will be sealed in the immediate future. May those of us who want Alienor to die put now their weapons on the table. If there are any who want to spare her, may they step away."

Minsc was the first to lay his giant sword on the table. Edwin grimaced ('Always one for drama, aren't you, witch?') but placed his dagger next to it. Aerie offered another dagger, Yoshimo – a katana, Lavok and Irenicus – staffs, until it was Khalid's turn.

"You have no weapon," Valygar noticed.

Khalid smiled and moved his hand through air, as if he was pulling something out. And then he was holding something: a blade, narrow and straight. It looked like any sword, apart from the strange, almost swirling metal from which it was fashioned.

"A Limbo sword," Viconia said under her breath.

"I don't think it will last long outside the Limbo," cautioned Lavok, clearly fascinated with the strange blade.

"It w-will last l-long enough", Khalid replied. He slowly put the sword on top of the others.

Dynaheir breathed out. "Nobody opposes. So it is decided: Alienor will die!"

"We have known that for some time, I daresay," Irenicus muttered audibly. Minsc and Boo stared at him menacingly. Neither hamsters nor their rangers like it when somebody ruins perfectly good dramatic moments.

"Wait!" a voice called from somewhere in the room. They looked at its source. A fragile old man stood up from his seat. His face was familiar to Khalid and Jaheira. "I am Gorion, Alienor's foster father. Please... I knew her when she was a child and though I understand that her death is a necessity..." his voice faltered, "I ask you for this only: kill her quickly. I don't want her to suffer. Swear it!"

"Minsc and Boo swear it!" the giant ranger said with conviction.

"I swear," Imoen whispered.

"We swear," the others chorused, and Anomen concluded, "And may it end at last!"


	14. Chapter Thirteen: It Ends

A/N: Yes... it's here. The last chapter. What's going to happen to the Avengers? Will they manage to break free? And what about Alienor? Read on to find out! (And there's a thank-you section at the end, too.)

**Chapter Thirteen: It Ends**

_Kez switched the computer on. In the last few days she had felt a strange apprehension just thinking about 'Baldur's Gate'. Today she had finally managed to get over it. Telling herself that there was nothing wrong with the game – she was now convinced she must have been delirious – she clicked 'Load'._

Little did she know that she was up for the shock of her life.

*****

Something was changing; they all could sense it. The passage from Limbo to Athkatla was different than before, gentle and fluid. They gradually began to see the dirty, smoky interior of the Copper Coronet taking shape.

"Not in here," somebody – it might have been Valygar – spoke clearly. "It must happen in bright daylight... on Waukeen's Promenade."

As if on cue, they were blinded by the light of the sun at the zenith. An empty Promenade appeared all around them. Neither people nor colorful stalls were there; gone were the tents and cages of the circus. The air was still, undisturbed by even the slightest of breezes. Only the white marble arches reminded them where they were.

Something was changing. Everything, perhaps.

*****

_Kez blinked. What was that? She remembered quite well that the last time she had saved the game, the group was in the Copper Coronet. What the hell were they doing on Waukeen's Promenade?!_

She tried to convince herself that her brother had been at it again. But deep down she was scared out of her wits.

*****

Valygar looked at his companions' faces and saw deadly determination. There were nine of them, including him, but it seemed like there were more. At the edges of his field of vision other faces, other silhouettes were flickering in and out of existence: hair, blonde or red, a purple dress, shining yellow eyes... The border between the Limbo and Athkatla was disappearing. Valygar didn't know if it was a good sign, but of one thing he was sure – they had to act now, if they were to act at all.

He raised his eyes at Alienor, who was moving her lips soundlessly. It could be the first time that Valygar saw her confused and vulnerable. Somehow, it made her seem more human.

'No time for pity!' he told himself; and yet he couldn't hate Alienor any longer. He simply was tired, very tired and very anxious to end the charade at last.

The sun, high in the sky, bathed them in sweltering heat. No shadow fell on the ground, only the light, white and cruel; they were as a gathering of phantoms, lost in a nightmarish landscape of a madman's dream. Nine hands were gripping the weapons convulsively, but no one moved, apart from the quick, nervous rise and fall of their chests. Now that they were so close, they couldn't bring themselves to begin.

Alienor overcame her bewilderment – and sealed her own fate. "Why... what has happened? Why are we here?" she asked miserably. Her gaze traveled from one stern, unforgiving face to another.

Viconia looked at her. "We are here to exterminate you, Bhaalspawn."

"Minsc and Boo will cleanse the world from your presence!" the giant ranger cried. "Um... with a little help from their friends."

Alienor blinked. She looked helpless and frightened. She didn't draw her sword. "Why? What have I done? Why do you want to kill me?"

"Because you hurt us," Aerie said with unaccustomed vehemence.

"Because you hurt those whom we love," spoke Anomen, tightening his grip on his mace.

"For the humiliations," Edwin stated. Never before did he express his opinion in so short a statement.

"For using us like we were your pawns," Yoshimo said. He was like a panther: agile and ready to pounce.

"Because your very existence is a disgrace to Nature," Jaheira said, taking a step forward.

Valygar straightened his back. He wasn't looking at Alienor and the tears in her eyes; he stared past her, at the blurry shadows that danced and stretched out their hands, as if throwing more accusations. "In the name of those who couldn't accompany us here," he finished.

Alienor hid her face in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. Valygar didn't want to look at her. He had killed many times before, but slaughtering a terrified girl wasn't what he had imagined when they were in the Limbo, making plans. If Alienor fought, if she were proud and defiant, it would have been easier. Much easier...

Then Khalid stepped forward. He was holding the Limbo sword. Sunrays swirled in the smooth blade. "Go to the realm where you have imprisoned so many. Fade into the nothingness you have constructed, and never return!" he said, and each of his words was loud and clear.

Alienor started screaming. Her long black hair scattered over her shoulders, and she raised her head and screamed into the pale sky that was drowning them in merciless heat. Her scream was changing, ever vibrating with a new tone, rising and falling, and Alienor was changing with it. Their eyes, opened wide in shock, saw unknown figures, men and women, elves, humans, all the races that walked the Faerun, it would seem. This, they knew, was Alienor, or could be, or would have been in some parallel universe. And the scream went on and on, until it was just as real and material as the weapons in their sweaty hands, as the white marble arches of the Promenade.

Finally, it ended. And the world exploded.

*****

_'ERROR ERROR  
SYSTEM SHUTDOWN'_

Thick smoke rose from the computer. She had just enough sanity left to pull the plug from the socket in time.

*****

This wasn't Waukeen's Promenade; they noticed this, raising their heads from the soft moss and listening to the wind tugging at the leafy branches. The power that had shattered the world and put it whole again, had thrown them to a large clearing in a beautiful, idyllic forest. In a way it was... they couldn't really put the joyous feeling rising in their souls in words. This forest was more existent than any they had seen before. It was as real as it was possible.

Jaheira sat up and spat out some pine needles. She liked to keep close to nature, but, Silvanus, not that close! All around her there were people: standing up, shaking their heads in amazement – not yet quite believing that they were free – or erupting in hysterical laughter.

"We did it!" Imoen shouted, shaking her pink mane of hair. "We did it, we really did it!" She threw herself at Yoshimo and kissed him on the lips. It was rather surprising – but Yoshimo looked pleased. Jaheira looked at them and smiled.

"Jaheira," she heard suddenly. Khalid was standing at her side, outstretching his hand. She took it and got up; and then they kissed as well, expressing the happiness bubbling in them.

When they parted, Jaheira reached out and tucked a strand of her husband's red hair behind his ear. "I noticed you no longer stutter."

"I d-don't?"

"Never mind."

**almost THE END**

_"God, I am SO never going to touch this game again!"_

**THE very END**

A/N: I want to thank all the people who have so far reviewed this story. It began as a joke, but – what do you know – it only got good reviews all the time! And the reviews were what kept me going. So I want to thank: Amanda Geddarm, Anders, Anon, Aqua-chan, Bahamut Epyon, Becky, Caya, darkspell, Eli-Evermore, Gwen, HopeLightFaith, i, Latronis, Little Megan, Magicman/Smokegirl, Mel, Miss Becky, MordorianNazgul, Morgaine Dax, Nippy, Paladin, RiikiTikiTavi, Slide, Teya, The Blue Sorceress, Vhailor, Wingstar, Winkybunnion1, Zarnon and Kierkan. Sorry if I got anyone wrong!

Special praise goes to Magicman, who has reviewed each and every chapter, sometimes more than once. And my other BG fic, and my Neverwinter Nights story, too. (Did I tell you you rock? :)) If you haven't read Magicman's excellent story, 'Light wrapped in Darkness', I suggest you do it now. It's funny and sweet.

Last but not least, Slide, who beta-edited a large part of this story. Sorry, Slide. I'm a lazy person and when I do get a chapter written and translated, I usually want to post it as soon as possible. But you were a wonderful beta :)

So... see ya!


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